Your pillow smells of Tiger Balm, eucalyptus oil, and salty tears. There is a hole in the middle where you perhaps bit the pillow in frustration and then hugged it. The cotton inside seems stiff and unloved. I try to switch your night lamp in vain. Did it breathe its last the same day you did? I had neither seen your lamp nor had I tried to set it right. My heart melts into a liquid that fills my eyes. I taste the bitter drops of tears as I feel love for the first time in ten years.
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"Classic"
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